Emma's Secret: A Novel

lifted his bag onto the table, opened it, pulled out the envelope, and handed it to his daughter.
    “I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you, Papa, not like…not like your own little girl. I’ll always draw you pictures and write you letters, I promise.” Emma reached her little arms up and wrapped them around Jack’s neck.
    Peter glanced away briefly; the feeling that he’d intruded upon a moment he wasn’t part of hit him hard. His youngest daughter, despite everything she’d gone through, had grown up a lot in the two years she’d been away from them. She accepted life more easily than he could have.
    “Oh, sweetheart, I know you’ll never forget. My Mary never did either. Sometimes life gets in the way and makes it hard to keep our promises. But I’ll always love you. Always. That’s one promise I’ll never break.” Jack kissed the top of her head before he unhooked Emma’s arms and pulled back. “Now, scoot. Your mama is waiting for you, and I need to head back to the farmhouse. I’ve got some rosebushes that need pruning.” Jack held the envelope in his hands. “I’ll open this tonight before bed, okay?”
    Emma held up her hand, and then curled her fingers into her palm while keeping her pinkie up high. “Pinkie promise, Papa?”
    Peter’s lips curled into a small grin as Jack struggled to keep the smile off his face. Emma had a way of wrapping people around her little finger.
    “Pinkie promise.”
    Peter stood up from the table and waited for both Jack and Emma to do the same. Before he had a chance to take Emma’s hand, she’d launched herself at Jack again and whispered into his ear. A small pang of jealousy took root in Peter’s heart at the carefree way Emma responded to Jack. He wanted that with her. One day he would have it. He reached across and held out his hand. Once the older man gripped it, Peter squeezed tight.
    “Thank you.” His voice lowered. “I never said it that day. Thank you for loving Em and keeping her safe.” Peter swallowed past the golf ball lodged in his throat. He sniffed and blinked his eyes. “And I’m sorry for your loss.”
    No other words were spoken, just a tight nod of the head as Jack released Emma into Peter’s arms.
    Peter held his daughter close as he walked out of the donut shop. Emma’s arm waved relentlessly as they walked away. A huge smile filled her face. Once they were settled and Peter was driving out of the parking lot, Emma asked the question Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to answer.
    “Can we go back tomorrow?”

CHAPTER TEN
    J ack stood at the top of his porch steps and looked out over his front yard. Weeds peeked from crevices along the stone path, flowers wilted in the hot afternoon sun, and the grass was in dire need of a cut.
    He’d let things go. If Dottie were here, she’d have a thing or two to say.
    Jack pulled the kerchief out from his back pocket and mopped the sweat off his forehead and neck. The cloudless sky showed no mercy of rain or shelter from the sun’s rays. Last year during days like this, he was out in back beneath the trees, playing with his sweet Emmie.
    He missed those days. Guilt ate at him, tearing him up from the inside out. He wished time would reverse, even if just for a moment. He wanted to go back to that day when he sat with his girls, drinking ice-cold lemonade and drawing silly pictures with Emmie while listening to the clicking of Dottie’s knitting needles as she made another hat or booties for the church donation box. He wished to relive his ignorance and believe that Emmie was really his.
    He’d known Dottie had been in a bad place, but he hadn’t realized just how bad. When did her memory first go? How could she honestly have thought that Emmie was theirs? Why hadn’t he seenit sooner? He’d never forgive himself for not seeing what was in front of his eyes.
    Gripping the porch railing, Jack walked down the steps and made his way across his front lawn. In the middle of his yard, he’d stuck a bench and planted a small tree. That was the first plant he watered in the morning.
    When Dottie passed away, Jack had to make a choice. He could bury her either in Hanton, where so many of their friends were buried, or in Kinrich, close to Emmie. But with the huge media outcry when Emmie was found, Jack knew the last thing Dottie would want was to be buried where anyone could find her. She was a private woman. Always had been. Always would be.
    There were trees in their backyard